On the Cliffs of Moher
by Umbrella-ella
Summary: Anna Smith is the marketing executive for Britain's top fashion magazine, but a trip to Ireland leads her to rethink the most important parts of her life, including, with the help of a certain pub owner, the importance of finding- and keeping- true love. Anna/Bates. AU/Modern fic.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: **__Here we are, at the beginning of a massive undertaking that I have planned out, written out key ideas for, and had about five different titles for before finally deciding. Trying to place the characters in a modern setting seemed to be the hardest part for me, but once I got used to it, it was easy to see those particular people in those placements throughout the story. I've got the basics written out and many of the scenes have already written themselves out in my head (if not on paper)— from random clips of characterizations to bits of conversation, the tidbits kept coming to me, until they pieced together to create this. If you'll excuse the fact that this is my first multi-chapter AU!modern fic ever, I hope you'll sit back and enjoy the ride. Please, any feedback is welcome feedback. If a characterization seems off, let me know, and I'll go back and fix it. It's better to catch these things before we delve too deeply into our little adventure. I know a month's worth of vacation may seem like a lot, but really, I need a viable time period for Anna to do all the things she's meant to, including meeting a handsome mystery man. We all know who that is._

_**Disclaimer: **__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise. I don't own Vogue either, while we're at it. On top of that, any resemblance between Enchantè magazine, in name or otherwise to anything on the market now, is purely coincidental. I literally just thought of the name. _

* * *

**On the Cliffs of Moher**

"_Red is the rose by yonder garden grows  
And fair is the lily of the valley  
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne  
But my love is fairer than any"— Red Is The Rose _

**Prologue**

Anna loved Gwen to bits, really she did, but honestly, sometimes she took her responsibilities as Anna's assistant and best friend too seriously. Especially today. Anna flicked through her appointment journal quickly, yet again checking the date on the tops. No appointments for a month? Gwen had some explaining to do. Luckily, Anna was patient and Gwen was quick to confess.

One withering look cast over the metal table outside the tiny café during lunch and Gwen broke.

"Look, Anna, I'm sorry, but you _need_ a break. You even said it yourself. Between working with the editors and the press, at this rate, you're going to run yourself down before we even touch the next draft of next month's issue— and let's not forget to mention what you do in your spare time. Oh, wait, _you don't have spare time. _And if you do, you spend it all with Christopher." Gwen's freckled face twisted into a grimace as she mentioned Anna's boyfriend, tucking a loose lock of her flaming red hair behind her ear. Grabbing her scone, Gwen made no point to be polite as she bit into it, her mouth full. Finishing the bite, Gwen asked, "Besides, what do you see in him anyway? Is he still on about the marriage thing?"

Anna had to admit, Gwen was right. Working nonstop for eight years at _Enchantè_, Anna had been afforded very little time off and had stockpiled her vacation hours until she didn't know what to do with them. _Enchantè _had finally hit it big, last year's Fall designs kick-starting the magazine into a new realm of the industry. The unexpected hit had everyone at the magazine thrilled of course, but it also meant more work for Anna. As head of the marketing division, it was a tough job, getting the magazine the press it needed to remain in the forefront of the consumer's minds, combined with the fact that she was a woman in 'a man's world'. Resenting that, Anna made it her life's work to be the best. She had to be as tough as the men she went up against, competing viciously for TV spots and prime ad space— luckily for the magazine, Anna was not easily beaten. Thus far, Anna's tenacity and sharp tongue had earned the magazine the title of the best new magazine to hit the stands since _Vogue_, but with a price_. _As Gwen had stated, she had no personal life to speak of, aside from Christopher, but his insistence on marriage was tiring at times. Marrying him would only divide her attentions, and her career didn't need that at the moment. Christopher was a nice bloke— but there was something about him that just didn't quite… click with her. Then again, Anna thought, he wasn't quite as supportive of her as he could be. On one hand, he was always travelling to some football tournament or another, much to Anna's chargin, and on the other, he couldn't understand that Anna Smith lived, breathed, and bled _Enchantè_. Her new boss was a hardened American woman with a zero tolerance policy on imperfection. Cora had married an Englishman, but her extravagant and wholly American tastes had led her to recreate the magazine into something new and exciting Britain hadn't seen in years.

Working under Cora Crawley and her three daughters was certainly no joke, and Anna took it very seriously. Cora had been quite the fashion expert in America and had long since stretched her ingenious tastes to England, where she singlehandedly redefined the word fashion— she didn't hesitate to remind people why _Enchantè _had launched onto the stands so suddenly. Revolutionary designs had burst into the market and profits for the magazine had skyrocketed. No, it was a miracle Anna had a personal life at all.

Anna sighed, pushing her muffin around on its plate, not thrilled at the idea of spending a whole month away from her job. But then, she did want some time to think, to recollect herself— go back to her roots, as it were.

Or in her case, find them in the first place.

Anna had always prided herself in being a practical, level-headed person, but sometimes her practicality got in the way of living. Running her free hand through her hair and loosening the bun, Anna pulled at the clip, letting her blonde hair tumble free. "Who would take my place? For the time being, I mean. Is Cora even okay with this? Does she even know?" Her brow creased, Anna waited raptly for a response from her friend, tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair in a rapid staccato.

"You'll be replaced by Ethel Parks. I hear she's very good at what she does and she'll keep the staff in line— she was Cora's helping hand in America. And of course Cora knows. She suggested it, after all. You're not going to say no to the big boss, are you?" Gwen arched an eyebrow at Anna, as if to challenge her, and Anna fought to keep a smile from spreading. "Besides, it'll give you time away, time to think about Christopher. I know you love him— but, Anna, do you really love him enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him? Do you see yourself in ten years with a white picket fence and two and a half kids?"

"I dunno, Gwenie. I'm thinking of just ending it. Today. For my own sanity as much as his. I can't keep stalling his proposal attempts. I love him, but not enough to give him what he wants." Anna sighed, letting her head fall into her palm as she grimaced. Christopher wasn't bad looking at all, far from it, nor was he a mean man. Being blessed with a good heart and good looks was one thing, but being cursed with a dreadful propensity for rushing things was terrible compensation for those good attributes.

"Please go. I can keep an eye on Ethel, and you'll hear nothing about anything going wrong. I promise."

Anna weighed the possibilities. One month away from the stressful, hectic, everyday jumble her life had become, and one month in blissful, peaceful vacation paradise. She could feel the sun already soaking into her pores.

"Oi, wait a minute! Where would I even go? I don't have a plan, nothing's booked, I would need to…" Anna stopped as Gwen rummaged through her purse and tossed a packet and a brochure on the table. Stretching, Anna felt the consequences of falling asleep at her desk in the study keenly, wincing as she grabbed the glossy brochure. The hum of London reached their quiet corner and the two women were soon surrounding by bustling people, hurrying about, trying to get to one place or another as fast as possible.

Reading quickly, Anna glanced at the pictures inside before lifting her eyes to Gwen, whose lips were stretched into a wide grin. Lifting the pamphlet to her friend's eye level, she spoke.

"Ireland? Really?" The statement was not accusatory or anything malicious in nature, simply that, a statement.

"Well, you always have those bloody scenery calendars pinned up everywhere, and it's such a terribly romantic place to go…"

Anna raised her hand, signaling that silence would be best for her red-haired companion.

"It is a one person trip, right? No one else?" Anna asked, trying to ensure that she would be unbothered on her vacation.

"Of course it's a one person trip! It's going to be you, by yourself, with no-one else to bother you. Promise." Gwen extended her hand in indication that the promise would be kept.

"What if I don't want to go to Ireland, Gwen?" Anna retorted, mildly disappointed that she wouldn't be soaking up the Caribbean sun anytime soon. Gwen shifted uncomfortably and Anna grew nervous.

"Well, you see… I've already bought your ticket and booked everything. And packed your bag. You're leaving. Tonight. I'm not the best assistant in London for nothing, you know."

"Gwen! What— I'll pay you back! There's no way I'm leaving tonight!"

Gwen no longer seemed nervous; instead her face was hard with a determined resolve. "Well, it's not my money. It's yours— and before you say a _word_, I am your assistant and best friend. I can do dangerous things with the things I know. Remember, I know what happened at the dock party during uni. So keep your objections to yourself, Miss Smith."

Anna's face flushed a deep crimson and her eyes fell, defeated, but not before she cast Gwen a look that made most people turn tail in the conference room. "I could have you sued for blackmail, you know." Anna teased, grabbing up the pro-offered plane ticket and papers.

"But you won't." Gwen grinned, sitting back and enjoying the rest of her pastry.

"Why not?" Anna retorted.

"Because then you would be cursed with a terrible assistant who couldn't get your tea right?"

Casting a sharp look to her friend, Anna finally relinquished, silently resolving to go home after lunch and pack of the last things she'd need for her trip.

_Well, here goes nothing_, Anna thought, taking a bite of her muffin.

"Fine. I'll go to Ireland. I won't find anything there, though."

* * *

_**A/N: **__Any comments, suggestions, helpful hints, words of encouragement, please drop them in that box there! Reviews are lovely and make my day!_


	2. Leaving It All Behind

_**A/N: **__So, here we are at the first chapter. Thank you to all of you who reviewed! I'll be introducing/mentioning a couple of familiar faces in this chapter, and I hope you enjoy them. Review, yeah?_

_**Disclaimer: **__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise._

* * *

**Chapter One: Leaving It All Behind**

Anna stepped into the quiet expanse of the flat she shared with her younger brother, glad to be home, and yet thrilled at the prospect of leaving it behind. It was quiet. William was probably out, enjoying the night life of London. A chuckle escaped her at the thought of him actually being a part of the night life in the city. She had never known a more dedicated university student; it was just her luck that she had a brother who considered reading essays on the origins of the RAF more interesting than partying. Of course, she wasn't about to complain— knowing William was more than likely in the stacks at the university library rather than out drinking with his peers was more than enough to settle Anna's worries. Flicking on the lamp near the entryway, Anna dropped her keys in the bowl by the door. After he had moved in, Anna had hoped that William had changed from the disorganized, forgetful young teenager he had once been, but there was no such luck. After two weeks of constantly hearing inquiries about the placement of his keys, Anna had gone out and bought a secretary's desk from the local antique shop, which now held mail, stationary, and most importantly (for her sanity as much as his lack of organizational skills), the keys to the flat.

"William? Are you in?" Maneuvering carefully past the coat rack on the opposite wall— the flat was far too small, really— Anna entered the main living area, only to be greeted by sight of her cheerful, albeit, quiet younger brother sleeping at the desk in the corner, a stack of books serving as his pillow, the soft light of his laptop screen illuminating his face.

Crossing the room in a few short strides, Anna dropped her handbag on the couch and unbuttoned her coat, grateful that the heat was working this evening. She shuddered to think how many cool fall nights she had found herself on the floor, tinkering with the radiator. Smiling lightly at the sight of William sleeping, she closed the distance between herself and the desk, gently shaking her brother awake.

"William? Wake up. I've got some news." Watching as her brother blinked the sleep out of his eyes, she laughed as he ran a hand through his blond hair, mussing it further.

"Oh, hullo, Anna," he yawned. "Did you have a good day at work today?"

"Yes, I did, thank you— as a matter fact, there's something I need to talk to you about."

Anna suddenly felt anxious about leaving. William was only twenty-one, and as old as that might seem to some, to Anna, he was still her little brother, and she wasn't quite sure she wanted to leave him alone for a month. Chiding herself, she reminded herself that the idea of him moving in with her and away from home was so that he get comfortable being on his own. When she was seventeen and he was a mere eight years old, her mother had married his father. Anna and William weren't expected to get on very well, so their immediate bond was unexpected, and in the years following, Anna had come to consider William her family, blood or not. William was a terribly sweet young lad, and Anna loved him for it. His heart was always in the right place of course, just as it had been when he'd tried to enlist in the army— luckily he'd been rejected. Anna thanked her lucky stars for that, even though she'd had to help William find his way in the world after that. She wasn't sure their parents could bear the thought of him in the military; she knew she daren't fathom the idea that he might be hurt somehow, let alone killed. William was gifted, hardworking, and very interested in helping people, so Anna had talked him into a few courses at the University of London, and he had instantly taken to it.

Blond, tall, and handsome, William was much like his father had been in his younger years, and he had— much to his stepmother's relief— been much easier to handle growing up, his shy, quiet demeanor lending itself easily to the process, while Anna's outspoken, bold personality had proven much harder to control as a single parent. Crossing to the windows, Anna pulled the curtains shut as she waited for her brother to wake up fully. The sun had set already, and Anna's flight was in three hours. Gwen had been kind enough to organize the hotel she would be staying at for the night once she got to Dublin— Anna would be staying for one night, and then retreating to a B&B in a small town called Inistioge in County Kilkenny. Gwen had remarked on its location, which apparently lent itself nicely to Anna's need for a stress free vacation in a quiet place.

"I know, you're going on vacation," William stood now, his full height towering over Anna. Anna turned, slack jawed before it dawned on her.

"You knew," Anna let a smile creep across her features, though she tried her hardest to look hurt. Teasing William was a pastime of hers, and she wasn't about to let that go, even if he was an adult.

"Of course I knew. Gwen couldn't plan it all by herself," William grinned. Anna laughed, unable to keep up her façade as she thought of all the trouble he must've gone to, helping Gwen organize the trip. Anna reached out to smack him gently, but being so much taller, William was able to get away from his sister's playful swipe fast enough. "Besides, you need a vacation from everything, especially that bloody git Christopher."

"William," Anna reprimanded, "that's not fair."

"Well, he is! He's not worth your time Anna, you know that— he's too bloody pushy. He'll hold you back. You know it and I know it. Anyways, about this trip, you told him it was for one, right?"

Anna shot a glare at her brother, but found she couldn't be angry at him. William was right, and Anna knew it. "Yes, I told him as much. I also told him that we should take a break for the time being, see other people."

"And what did he say?"

"He didn't agree at first, but I told him I need it for myself, to think about how I felt about him, to see if he's really what I want and he seemed alright with it in the end. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go pack what Gwen left out," Anna turned on her heel, but William stopped her.

"Anna, you know I love you. You're my sister— I just want to see you happy, and if that means you going on vacation and finding a nice bloke and having to ditch Christopher, than you can be sure I'll be one hundred and ten percent behind you." His eyes sparkled as he spoke, his genuine intentions laced with mirth. Rolling her eyes at him, she sighed. "I know. You don't like him. I get it."

Anna grinned at him, opening her arms to hug him. William smiled and stooped to hug her.

"I know, and thank you for your blessing, but I don't think I'll be finding any blokes in Ireland worth bringing home. That's not what I'm there for, is it? But thank you. Will you be alright here by yourself? Can you handle O'Brien?"

At the mention of their dour-faced neighbor, William grinned cheekily.

"Don't be spiteful, now. Be nice to her, at the very least," Anna remarked.

"You know me, I'm a perfect angel," He reassured her before laughing at his sister's unnecessary concern, his laugh echoing in the flat long after Anna had gone to pack the last of her things.

* * *

Grateful for the relative calm of the airport, Anna sighed. In just a few short hours, she would be on vacation, with no job to think of, no responsibilities— but it was her life she was leaving behind, too. And she was leaving it behind for a _month._

Four weeks.

Thirty days.

What in the bloody hell was she _thinking_?

The intensity and enormity of the thought hit her so profoundly, she nearly went home after she arrived at the airport. But the memory of what William had said just before she left had suddenly struck her, and she decided against it. Recalling her brother's words once more, she walked along the hall leading to the gates, the click of her heels echoing in the nearly empty corridor.

"_Sometimes, things happen to us that are beyond our control, and sometimes, those things turn out to be the best experiences of our lives. So enjoy this, don't let it go by too quickly." _

William was a good young man, always willing to help others. Worry still festered in the back of her mind about leaving her brother, but then, he would be fine— she knew that. If anything, as rude as O'Brien was, she would look out for him.

"_Gate 32, flight to Dublin, departing in 15 minutes. Passengers now boarding."_

The neon orange glow of the digital clock hanging in the corridor illuminated her way, and she glanced up at it. 8:00 PM. Anna quickened her pace, the excitement mounting within her.

Within ten minutes, Anna was buckled into her seat, sandwiched between an older man who had wasted no time in falling asleep and the cold glass of the window, impatient for her journey to begin. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

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_**A/N: **__I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave feedback! No worries, John will show up in the next chapter!_


	3. Missteps and Meetings

_**A/N: **__I'm so very encouraged by everyone's wonderful reviews. The first part of the chapter was not planned at all, but it sort of wrote itself— it takes place during what would be Anna's afternoon commute from Dublin to Inistioge. I also realized recently that my formatting for the first chapter was structured differently than that of my prologue— it's fixed now, so it looks cohesive. I suppose that's what I get for posting chapters in the wee hours of the morning. And if my geography is off, I blame Google Maps._

_**Disclaimer: **__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise._

* * *

**Chapter Two: Missteps and Meetings**

"Daisy!"

A booming voice rattled through the small establishment, and the girl came bolting out of the back room of the pub, her eyes wide with worry.

Gripping his walking stick harder than necessary, John Bates fought to keep his temper in check— for all of his patience, sometimes he forgot why he hired people who were incapable of doing a job correctly. His leg was in a right state today, thanks to the fitful night he had suffered through the night before, and it wasn't helping his mood. The Red Lion Pub was opening tonight and the whole thing was a bloody mess already. It had taken John years to build his dream, and now in a few short hours, it was falling to pieces all around him. Inistioge had been a nice quiet place, just the kind of village he wanted to start fresh in, but it was all going to hell before he had the chance to start over. He sighed, scrubbing harder at the stain on the bar, wishing he could just do it all himself. His employees were not the most capable, and Daisy Robinson had certainly proven that today, the fear evident on her face.

"Daisy, you know that shipment was supposed to be here yesterday! What the bloody hell have you been doing?"

John was exhausted, and to add to that, the shipment of beer that he needed for the opening was late. Daisy was a fairly decent young lass, but she could be quite ridiculous sometimes. Really, he'd only hired her as a favor to her aunt, Beryl Patmore, the pub cook, and only because she had begged. Now he regretted it.

A slip of a girl, Daisy shrank even more as John waited for an answer, the washrag in her hands twisting and knotting as she stammered, "Erm… I'm sorry, Mr. Bates… I thought you said we were goin' ta wait on tha' shipment an' order from the other company…"

_Patience, John. She's just a girl. _

He sighed deeply, calming himself. "Of course, Daisy, I'm sorry, I should have been clearer with you. I'll take care of it." Daisy's brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates. I really am."

"No worries, I said I'd take care of it." John clenched his jaw, willing himself to let the matter settle. The door creaked, announcing the arrival of a guest. Daisy's eyes had widened further, if possible, and John dreaded what was sure to come. With a pointed look from John, Daisy scampered away back into the storeroom before anymore could be said.

"Hullo, Bates. Fancy place you've got here. Mind if I come in?" the newcomer drawled. Reeking of stale cigarette smoke, the younger man took a seat at the bar, clearly ignoring the hateful glare John sent his way. With slick black hair and a sneer that was permanently etched on his face, Thomas Barrow was not the kindest of men when it came to welcoming John Bates to the village.

"We're closed. Come back later," John growled, not feeling up to sparring with the greasy bastard today. Thomas was the last person he wanted to deal with this afternoon, and his leg didn't quite feel up to the fight he so desperately ached for.

"I've just come in for a brew." A crooked smile painted Thomas' face.

A local lad, Thomas was bent on making things hard for John, ensuring he was a daily nuisance at the Red Lion. John never particularly cared for Thomas— he had made that perfectly clear— and yet the man continued to antagonize him. The idea that John had bought out the small building that housed the Red Lion before Thomas could even place a bid on it had soured the young man's disposition towards John significantly, and it showed.

"Thomas, we won't be serving anything until six, and you know that," John stated, doing his best to keep his voice steady. He didn't need this day turning out any worse than it was already. Turning his back, John pulled a few glasses down from the shelf and swiped a clean rag through them, desperate to ignore his unwanted guest. He heard Thomas's snide laugh echo behind him.

"From what I've heard, you won't be serving anything at all. You're a fool, John Bates. Should've listened to your old lady when you had the chance— too late now, she's gone off with all your money, hasn't she? Every. Damn. Pound."

Slamming the glass he was holding down on the bar, John yanked Thomas close, his tight grip wrinkling the neatly starched collar Thomas wore, his voice low and threatening, "You have no idea what you're talking about. Now get out, before I throw you out."

Releasing the arrogant arse, John showed no sympathy as Thomas trudged out, slamming the door behind him. He had hoped he could avoid the scene, but Thomas had danced on his last nerve. Thomas didn't know what he was on about. Vera had taken him for all of his money, every bit of it, leaving him with naught but a pale stripe on the fourth finger of his left hand, and he hadn't cared, so long as she was as far away as possible. But, no, he had never once listened to her doubts about him and he wasn't about to start now. How he wished to be back in London, the city air, the rush of people every which way. It would be impossible to go back now, not with _her_ there. Not where she could be close enough to ruin him again. But here, in Ireland, for now at least, his business would do well, of that he was sure. And there wasn't a damn thing that could stop him. He sighed.

Except not having any damn beer. Picking up the phone, John dialed the number for the delivery service.

_It had to be alright._

* * *

Anna was not having a good day, whatsoever. She had missed the train out of Dublin to Thomastown and had to make a last minute rental from the car shoppe. Stuck with a clunky old rental that looked as if it hadn't seen the light of day for forty years, Anna wobbled and shook as the car jolted and jerked across the countryside. She had hoped to stop and take in some of sights that were native to Ireland— the rolling greenery, the ruins of long forgotten castles, and some of the small farmsteads that littered the outskirts of larger towns and cities— before she arrived in Inistioge, but she didn't want to risk being stranded out in the middle of nowhere. It would be her luck.

The afternoon sun was soon diffused by the cloud cover that had swept over the area that morning, making her drive seem dreary and grey. Then again, it was November— better November than the middle of January, she supposed.

Finally, after nearly three hours of aimless driving, Anna set eyes on the tiny village of Inistioge and her breath caught. Tucked away in the hills, the smattering of stone houses barely rose up out of the ground, so strange and out of place amongst the green of the countryside, but her heart swelled at the sight. It was foreign to her, the sleepy little town, but it was a welcome juxtaposition from the usual view of her London flat, the sound of the busy streets below, never sleeping, never stopping, the hum of the city vibrating the very air around her. Anna sighed in relief, letting a small smile cross her lips, and she knew— this would be a wonderful vacation. Reinvigorated, Anna pressed forward, the little engine revving and rumbling as she trundled along to her final destination.

Crossing into the town, Anna was nearly overwhelmed by the sight. The small town rustled with activity, people going here and there, some stopping and watching what was sure to be an amusing sight of the little motor whining and grinding as it sputtered down the road, and others acknowledging the newcomer with a tilt of the cap or a friendly smile.

The main road was short, only offering a few shops, including the bed and breakfast she was to stay at. Pulling into the lot, Anna switched the ignition off and clambered out of the car, stretching. The pull of her muscles felt lovely— the drive down had been arduous at best, and her entire body ached with the strain of a long day. It was barely three in the afternoon, and all Anna wanted to do was drop into bed and forget about the world for a few hours. Yawning, Anna walked around the back of the car, about to open the boot, when she spotted him.

Just outside of a pub across the street, a man was performing a balancing act, two crates in his arms as he tried to open the door. Forgetting her task for a moment, she tucked her keys away in her handbag and she rushed to help him, onlookers clearly ignoring him.

Crossing the street, Anna extended her arms out to catch the crate that was tottering precariously, the case nearly falling to the ground before she managed to hold it in place.

* * *

John was having a hell of a time. Daisy was in the back, Mrs. Patmore was in the washroom, and no one else was there to help him yet. Leaning his cane against the whitewashed front of the building, John grasped two more crates of beer and heaved them up, grunting with the exertion. The weight of the crates left him unstable— his knee was already in unbearable pain as it was—but he pushed towards the door of the pub, nearly stumbling with the effort. The top case rattled dangerously, the bottles clinking and wobbling, and John knew what was about to come. Screwing his eyes shut, he waited for the great crash that was sure to follow, but it didn't. Risking a glance, he noticed that the box hadn't fallen at all, but instead it had stayed atop the other.

"Need some help? It takes half the time with two." A slight Yorkshire accent, female, by the sound of it, issued from the other side of the boxes.

"Please," John heaved, glad to know that his day wasn't ruined further, thanks to the kindness of a single stranger. The boxes were lifted from his grip and John relished the feel of the lessened burden.

He cast a smile to his savior and nearly lost his footing— the bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen stared back at him and he was suddenly lost for words. John cleared his throat noisily, his mouth suddenly very dry, and he nervously shuffled forward, opening the door for the nameless woman. Pointing to the bar where six more crates rested, his voice was strained as he spoke, "If you could just set those on the bar…"

John felt himself flush as she tossed him a sweet smile over her shoulder, making her way across the floor of the pub, doing as he had requested. Taking a moment, he admired the hidden strength in her body as she heaved the beer onto the counter, the bottles clinking inside. Grasping his walking stick, John made his way inside the dimly lit establishment.

Letting the door shut, he hid his burning cheeks with the tilt of his head as he made his way behind the bar, the tap of his cane echoing. Lifting his head bravely, he caught the woman's eye as she grinned again, and his heart stuttered in his chest once more.

"Thank you for your help…?"

The woman extended her hand, and John encased her hand in his own— _they fit so perfectly together, naturally, even_— and shook. Her lips twisted upwards, and there was little John could do to stop his own smile from appearing. He found he didn't really mind, oddly. Her hand was still nested in his when she next broke the silence.

"I'm Anna."

_Anna. _How lovely.

Swallowing hard, John reminded himself that it was polite to speak his name in return, rather than stare.

"John. John Bates. This is my pub." Gesturing around, he watched her eyes flick back and forth, registering their surroundings in mere seconds. The absence of her hand in his own did not go unnoticed; he very much regretted the lack of contact.

"Well, Mr. Bates, I'm sure it's very lovely." John smiled at the use of his formal name, but perhaps it was the _way _she said it that made him grin so wholly.

"It will be, once it opens. It might not have gone through tonight if it hadn't been for your heroism. So thank you, again. Will you come tonight, to the opening? I'd like to honor my savior with drinks— on the house."

"Not a problem. The world is a sad place, really, no one stopping to help anyone. That said, I always make it a point to help tall, dark, and handsome men when they need it." Flashing him a conspiratorial smirk, Anna began to leave, but John's voice stopped her.

"Anna…You haven't said whether I'll see you tonight." Her name had sounded wonderful on his lips, and he found himself wishing he could say it again.

He looked on as she turned, her eyes glittering with mirth. Her golden hair was close to tumbling down her shoulders, the tie in her hair loosened with the sudden movement. She was a vision then, and John found himself happily bewitched.

"Well, you'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

With a last smile and a murmured goodbye, Anna stepped out into the world, the door thudding shut behind her, leaving him to ponder their encounter.

* * *

_**A/N: **__And just like John, you'll all have to wait and see if Anna shows up or not._


	4. Introductions & Nighttime Commiserations

_**A/N: **__I'm terribly sorry about the wait, but I hope this chapter is enough to make up for it! Some of Anna's history is revealed, Christopher's true nature shines through, and Anna and John meet again, this time under less stressful circumstances._

_**Disclaimer: **__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise._

* * *

**Chapter Three: Introductions and Nighttime Commiserations**

The exhaustion gripped Anna tenfold by the time she stumbled into her room at the Inistioge Bed & Breakfast, finally escaping the seemingly endless list of rules instilled by the owner.

Mr. Charles Carson was a gruff, older man with a no nonsense demeanor about him, insisting on explaining every single rule before Anna had even had the chance to put her bags in her room. His shoulders were broad and his demeanor was stiff— he struck Anna as the type who would demand perfection no matter the circumstances.

At the moment, her bags surrounded her as she found herself in the lobby of the small business, wishing she could sink into her bed and sleep the day away, but there was no such luck.

"… Furthermore, guests are not permitted to invite outsiders in; this is a first rate establishment— if you wish to _carry on_, do so elsewhere. Breakfast begins at eight o' clock and checkout is at ten in the morning. Are there any questions, ma'am?"

Mr. Carson's jaw was set, his voice clipped as he relayed the last of the rules to Anna, his hawk-like gaze peering at her from beneath bushy eyebrows as he remained behind the reception counter. His gaze was unrelenting and Anna shifted uncomfortably beneath his stare. Suddenly feeling underdressed, Anna watched as the older man scrutinized her, as if he were watching for any sign of impropriety about her. Her jeans suddenly felt uncomfortable, the blouse she wore felt too informal, her ponytail was too sloppy, and the trainers on her feet were unacceptable.

His silent companion, a kind looking older woman, perhaps only five years younger than Mr. Carson, was a blessing. The woman's sympathetic looks came often as she stood next to the intimidating man, her eyes regarding Anna's face carefully, as if she knew of her conflict; on the one hand, Anna was determined, as a guest of the establishment, to stay and listen, but on the other, her body protested, the strain of the day tiring her already. Apparently, the woman had taken it upon herself to rescue Anna from any future embarrassment, stepping forward and clutching Anna's last bag that had been resting on the hardwood floor in her hand.

"Mr. Carson, I do think our guest should at least get settled in before we start badgering with protocols. There's plenty of time for that later. Now, come along dear— fetch your bags— that's it, and follow me if you will." With a pointed look at Mr. Carson, as if to tell him off, the woman led Anna away to her room.

Their path led them down the narrow hallway and away from a very aghast Mr. Carson, who resembled something akin to a fish out of water, clearly not used to being spoken to in that manner.

Fighting the urge to giggle, Anna followed the swift footfalls of the woman, her bags knocking gracelessly against the walls. The halls were barely wide enough for them, and she winced, hoping that Mr. Carson couldn't hear it.

"Mr. Carson can be quite a challenge at times; I should know, I've worked with him for thirty-odd years. I'm the housekeeper here— Mrs. Hughes, but you may call me Elsie. Anything you need at all, you are to come straight to me," Mrs. Hughes spoke over her shoulder, the keys fastened at her hip jingling every time she took a step.

The housekeeper's auburn hair, pulled back in a severe bun, bobbed in time with her pace, and the skirt she wore rustled with her constant movement.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," Anna smiled up at the older woman as they came to a stop in front of what Anna supposed to be her room.

"Oh no, don't thank me. It's my job, isn't it?" Between the chime of great metal keys knocking together and the click of the lock, she added, "Well, here you are then. Linens and towels are in the closet, and the bathroom is just down the hallway. There's a lock on the door for privacy. Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you." With a smile, Mrs. Hughes deposited her last bag near the alcove on the other side of the thin hallway and handed Anna the solid key before striding away, leaving Anna on her own in the corridor. Sighing, Anna took in the tiny place— there wasn't much to look at so far. The wallpaper was cute, she supposed, it's floral pattern reminiscent of something that might be plastered on the walls of her childhood home.

Sunlight streamed in through the panes of glass that made up each of the four windows, and the nearest window had been turned into an alcove of sorts, cushions placed comfortably for a nice spot to read.

Anna smiled— in her time at work, she'd nearly forgotten about her well-worn copy of _Jane Eyre_. It was nearly falling apart at the seams, the binding was shot, and the pages were crinkled with years of wear, but she never failed to read it at least once every year— as a sort of homage to her father, she supposed. At eight years old, she had opened the package, the brown wrapping paper having been carefully peeled away (Anna had always been careful and organized, even as a child), and on the hardback cover was a beautifully illustrated picture of a broken tree, beneath which, in gorgeous gold leaf scrawl, were the words _Jane Eyre_. She couldn't remember ever loving a gift more. As a child, she had always carried it with her and adulthood proved no different.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Anna slung the last bag over her shoulder, letting her hand grasp the cool metal of the door handle, eager to see what lay in wait. A small gasp escaped her, her surprise overtaking her.

Making a mental note to thank Gwen and William profusely, she let her bags fall with a thump to the ground, just inside the door. Her room was exquisite.

Examining the room, Anna smiled as she set eyes on the small vase, sprigs of lavender complimenting the theme of the room. A small Victorian-style vanity stood against the far wall, next to the matching dresser, the white of the furniture a stark contrast to the purple walls. The bed looked inviting and the four-poster frame looked as if it had come with the house. Shutting the door behind her, Anna moved to the window, parting the lace curtains, curious to see what lay outside. Her eyes met the whitewashed brick front of the Red Lion Pub, and she couldn't help but laugh. That had certainly been an experience, saving someone from disaster— for once, she could claim to be a sort of heroine, rather than the helpless victim of her own disasters; she shuddered to think how many times she'd had to throw away a blouse that had been ruined in some mishap with tea or coffee, refusing the offers of some gallant 'hero'. Of course, it helped that this man— John, she reminded herself— was very, very good-looking. Not quite in the way she was accustomed to, of course— while London was all bar crawlers and men who, by any other standards, might be considered attractive, Anna never found herself attracted to the male model of 'perfection' as Gwen had so blatantly put it. Until Christopher, of course. He had wooed her after several attempts at conversation, which Anna had stalled— in the end, she had only gone out with him because she had nothing better to do than to spend her Friday evening at home alone, watching Catherine Tate reruns.

It had blossomed into more, but as time went by, Anna saw less and less of him and she found she liked it better that way. His work kept him away more and more often and Anna was almost pleased at that. Christopher's continued presence in her life, from the constant calls to the frequent text messages, unnerved her more than she cared to admit to anyone, least of all to William. Her last conversation with Christopher had set her on edge, and she was determined to forget him, now more than ever. William hadn't gotten the full story— Anna had never lied to her brother, but she had about that and she felt ashamed of it.

'_Anna walked into the café, waving at the manager, who greeted her with a smile. Anna had worked behind the counter during her university years, and the manager, Alice, had been a godsend during her training days. The bell on the door jingled behind her as it shut, causing a few patrons to glance up from their meals. Her gaze flickered across the café, the sunlight glinting off of the gleaming countertop. A jukebox stood in the corner, playing some off-key beat. _

"_Anna!" Christopher stood from his seat, the chair grating against the floor, causing Anna to wince. A weak smile replaced her frown as she sat in front of Christopher. His blond hair was smoothed back and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose as he smiled at her. Anna felt a pang of regret at what she was about to do. _

"_Will this take long? I've got a flight leaving in three hours. I'll be gone for two weeks," Flicking his wrist, he glanced at his watch, making a show of checking the time while Anna played with the tablecloth. _

"_No, it won't take long. I've come to say something— actually, I've wanted to say this for awhile, but…" Deep breath, she reminded herself. _

"_I don't… I don't want this, Christopher. I've tried to tell myself I did, but I don't— you mean too much to me to keep lying."_

_Christopher's eyes flickered up to hers, a cold look chilling her to the core. She moved to take her hand from where it lay on the tabletop, but his hand grasped hers in vice-like grip. Her stomach clenched and her lip trembled involuntarily, her muscles tensed, as if one more thing might snap the tension in her body— as if she were a spring, ready to release. Her heart thundered in her chest and she knew she had been right. _

"_But I don't mean enough for you to stay with me. Is that it, Anna?" His voice was hard, callous even._

_Anna felt the squeeze of his hand press into hers and she tugged her hand away, standing up._

_With a stormy look in her own eyes, she regarded him with disdain: "Precisely. And don't bother trying to contact me; I'm going out of town for a while." And with that, Anna left the café, the door shutting with a firm thump.'_

Thinking of John once more, she smiled. Perhaps she did deserve a little fun. And some free beer.

By the time she finished unpacking, her copy of _Jane Eyre _resting on the vanity, Anna barely had enough energy to set her alarm on her phone before sleep claimed her.

* * *

The pub was packed, and with the crowd came the noise. John was by nature a quiet man, but really, he couldn't complain— at least not this time. He had already sold half of his beer in the two hours since the opening, and the crowds were showing no signs of fading away anytime soon. The large dining area was packed full of people, eating and talking, the clink of silverware barely audible over the chatter of so many folks. The bar was being well-run; John took great pride in the bar and Tom, the young bartender fresh from Dublin, knew that, assuring that everyone was kept in high spirits as the alcohol flowed. To say it was a success was an understatement. John smiled happily as he watched from his spot behind the bar, glimpsing a few familiar faces here and there. Often he walked about, ensuring that the customers were happy. However, not all was well. It was eight o' clock, and Anna still hadn't shown up. It had been wishful thinking, hoping his savior would show, but even so, there wasn't much else she could've done in Inistioge at this hour. He couldn't help but glance at the door every few seconds, in the hopes that perhaps he might spot her.

A few moments were spent attending to the needs of one particular town doctor, Richard Clarkson, who had become, for all intents and purposes, completely sloshed. John escorted the man outside, heaving him onto the bench, his leg stiff from the activity. John pulled out his cell phone, rang up a cab, and sat next to Richard with a huff.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A great sigh broke the silence and the doctor leaned forward, his state of inebriation apparent. The smell of beer invaded John's nostrils and his eyes stung, watering profusely.

"Talk 'bout what?" Clarkson asked, his voice slurred, as if his tongue was swollen.

"About why you, of all people, have to sit and wait for a cab because you're so drunk you can't stand upright by yourself." John remarked, leaning away from the drunken man in an effort to avoid the heady stink of alcohol that permeated the air.

"Because," the white haired gentleman hiccupped, "I failed. I told them it was a clean break. D'you know where that boy is now? Do you know…?" Richard slumped against John's shoulder, his voice muffled against the sleeve of John's blazer.

"Where is he? The O'Malley boy?" John's interest was piqued. The young land had taken a tumble down a hill and broken his leg a couple of weeks back, but John hadn't expected this turn of events.

"He's in surgery… Right now. In Dublin. The break… it wasn't quite as clean as I thought it to be. He's going in for nerve damage. He might not regain complete use of his leg."

John sighed, sympathetic to the doctor's plight, and tried to find comforting words.

"Sometimes… sometimes these things happen for a reason— maybe we're meant to learn things. Learning doesn't stop because you're a professional. Believe me I know."

"What've you ever done wrong, Johnny-boy?" The doctor hiccupped and sat back on the bench, limp and unmoving. Before John could answer properly, the cab pulled up and John hoisted Dr. Clarkson up, limping his way to the cab and depositing him as best he could inside. Digging in his pockets, John pulled out enough to pay for the doctor's journey home and bade the driver good night.

Funny question, that was. John had done many things he wasn't proud of, really, almost too many to count. Shrugging to himself, John turned to fetch his cane and made to go inside, but he was stopped by a voice calling to him.

"John!" Turning back, John spotted Anna.

The clack of heels on pavement followed and suddenly, she was there. The lighting was poor outside, but the windows of the pub illuminated Anna, and for that, John was very grateful. Her black dress sparkled, patterns of black sequins swirling across the front. Her long blonde hair curled down her back, and her arms were bare, her forearms squeezing against her, the chill of the evening obviously getting to her. Anna's eyes flickered up to his and watched as he took her in.

Anna broke the looming silence suddenly, and John's eyes snapped back up to Anna's, lest she think the worst of him.

"I hope I'm not too late to get a decent spot. It looks busy in there," Anna spoke.

John found himself flustered, trying to form a sentence without sounding like a fool.

"Erm… no, not at all. There should be a spot up at the bar, if you like," John smiled, adding, "I'm glad you came, Anna." Opening the door for Anna, John let her pass.

Following Anna through the pressing crowd, John saw to it that Anna got a seat at the bar, and served her up a lager.

"For saving me earlier, thank you." John spoke, the glass sliding against the bar as Anna drgged it towards her.

Raising the glass to her lips, Anna added, "To your success."

Grinning, John felt a thrill as Anna's eyes examined him, watching his movements. He could feel her gaze, even as he turned to fetch another glass for himself, filling it with water.

"So where are you from, Anna? Obviously you aren't a local."

Anna fiddled with her coaster for a moment before answering, "Originally? I'm a Yorkshire lass, but I've lived London since I was eighteen. What about you?"

"Oh, I was born and raised in London, but I came here after some… personal difficulties." John watched, fascinated as Anna took a drink swiping the foam from her lip with the serviette before replacing it on the bar.

"Oh, dear… Sounds messy— and complicated." Her tone of sympathy was strong and John found himself pleased that she didn't pity him like so many others.

"It is— how about you? What brings you to this place, of all the places you might choose?" John asked, his questioning gaze seeking her face, as if he might glean some profound answer.

"Personal difficulties," Anna grinned. Clearly she was not going to give it up that easily, "Why did you open this place?" She gestured around the pub, leaning into the bar so that a group of people could push past her. John winced when one of them jostled Anna rather rudely, but she paid no mind.

John took a drink of his water, thinking about his answer. "It's what I've always wanted to do. It's the ultimate test to my sobriety." He grinned, trying to lighten the brashness of his comment, watching as Anna's eyes clouded with realization, setting her glass down with a thunk.

"Oh, how silly of me, I shouldn't be drinking then— I'm sorry—"

Reaching out a hand, John caught her wrist before she slid her beer away. "Don't be silly, Anna— I've been sober for twelve years. This is fine. Besides, I own a pub— surely I can handle others drinking, then? Believe me, you nearly saved me from having to drop off the wagon today with your heroism." Anna's cheeks reddened, her eyes dropped to her beer as she laughed.

"I suppose I was quite the heroine today, wasn't I?"

"You're a regular Lizzie Bennet." A burst of laughter escaped Anna, and John found it too tempting not to join in.

Soon, the pair of them were talking the night away; animated tales of his childhood had Anna reeling with laughter, and John found himself enthralled at her recollections of her time at university. Perhaps his efforts to start afresh weren't all bad.

* * *

_**A/N: **__3,000-odd words later, here we are at the end of the third chapter. I hope it's not too much to digest. I had debated whether or not to spilt it up, but I took a few parts out for continuity reasons and decided it fit better this way. This is a large chapter, so if you see any errors that I may have missed, let me know! Please feel free to leave a review!_


	5. Of Gentlemen and Payment

_**A/N:**__ Anna gets a little tipsy, John is a gentleman, and they both try to fight their hidden attraction to one another; it doesn't work very well. I'm really proud of this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise._

* * *

**Chapter Four: Of Gentlemen and Payment**

The pub had long since quieted, the crowd having cleared out sometime ago, but Anna was still there, watching contentedly as John scrubbed at the counter. Tom was out on the floor sweeping, the scratch of the broom echoing through the otherwise quiet business. Anna's eyelids were heavy, but she wasn't sure how late it was, nor did she particularly want to know— she might regret it in the morning, that is, if it wasn't morning already. Anna could feel a slight headache coming on. The beer had been stronger than she had thought, and a good portion of her thoughts had abandoned reason altogether— she'd only had a glass and a half, but that was more than enough for her. Which was exactly why she found herself staring unabashedly at the dark lock of hair that had slipped down to tickle at John's left eyebrow.

It was the alcohol. At least that was what she told herself.

Gratefully, John was gallant enough to pretend he didn't notice as he continued on with his task, rearranging bottles and cataloging the alcohol he might need more of later, his pencil scratching across the papers on the clipboard and scrubbing the bar. An occasional glance up from him paired with a smile broke the monotony, and Anna found herself enchanted by the flecks of hazel in his rich dark eyes.

Bringing her hand to her lips, she tried desperately to stifle a yawn, but John heard her. A grin spread across his face, and he swiped the bar one last time before rounding the bar, wordlessly offering his hand to her. His palm was soft against her fingers as she clutched at his hand and she stumbled slightly from the barstool, clambering gracelessly to the floor, her heels teetering as she regained her balance, her fingers tightening around his warm, strong hand. Anna felt odd, with her hand in his, his heat warming her fingers— her heart pounded loudly, and she found herself wondering if he could hear it in the silence that had settled. Her eyes were level with his chest now; he was quite a bit taller than she, and to be honest, even heels couldn't change that. A blush rose to her cheeks; she could feel the warmth heating her face.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry you stayed so late." His voice was low, considerate of her delicate state. She was thankful for that— her head was beginning to throb.

Anna lifted her eyes to his, examining his dark eyes as they sparkled down at her, the lock of hair falling precariously close to his iris; her heart contracted suddenly at the sight. With a tight smile, he brushed the lock of hair away, and Anna found herself saddened by the movement. Her fingers dropped from his hand, and she thought she might have seen a glimpse of discontent in the pools of deep, rich brown, but she decided she must've imagined it. A boldness overcame her (later she would blame the alcohol) and she spoke, her lips curling into a smile.

"I'm not."

Her words echoed around the room loudly, and Anna could tell Tom had stopped sweeping, the steady scratch of the broom faltering for a moment before the steady rhythm continued. John stepped back, dropping his hand to his side, clearing his throat, a flush creeping up past his collar. The top button of the white dress shirt he wore had popped open at some point during the hectic evening, offering a stark contrast to the dark chest hair that was just barely visible to her.

"Well, shall I get Tom to walk you out?" John shifted nervously and Anna grinned, nearly sighing in relief as he relaxed, his shoulders loosening.

"Actually, John, I'm off for the night," The good-looking Irishman stood by the door now, donning his coat and scarf, continuing on, "But my cab can wait if you like, miss."

Anna regarded John, watching him, trying to discern some reaction from his features, but he kept his eyes firmly planted on Tom. Before Anna could answer, John seemed to have made up his mind, addressing his bartender.

"No, Tom, that'll be fine; I'll get her there. Do you have enough for the fare?" Reaching into his pocket, John made as if to pull out some money, but the blond Irishman smiled and declined.

"I'm fine. I've made a lot this evening in tips alone. It seems the people like a bartender who can keep the liquor flowing. I'll see you tomorrow." With a final wave and a nod to Anna, the young Irishman was out the door. For a moment, all that could be heard was the slam of the cab door and rev of the engine as Tom departed. Then there was silence. Anna listened to John's breaths, even and relaxed, before his clipped timbre broke the silence.

"I'll lock up for the night," Pulling out a ring of keys, the metal jangled loudly as Anna followed John to the door. Turning suddenly to her, John shucked his blazer and placed it on her shoulders. Welcoming the warmth, Anna huddled in the welcome warmth of the large jacket, the edges nearly passing the hem of her dress, the sleeves dwarfing her arms. Inhaling, Anna was surprised by the pleasant aroma of peppermint, tinged with the comforting musk of a woodsy countryside that reminded her of camping trips when she was a child. John opened the door then and Anna shivered against the breeze that ruffled her hair— it was chilly out, but Anna could barely bring herself to care as John smiled at her.

"Thank you," Anna said, watching as John nodded.

Stepping out into the night, Anna looked at the crisp night sky, startled by the stars that dotted the inky expanse. John locked the door and turned back towards her, his voice rumbling beside her.

"Are you warm enough? November weather can be shoddy here." John pocketed the keys and matched his steps with Anna, who had already begun the short journey from the pub to the Bed & Breakfast, the click of his cane drowned out by the sound of her heels clacking noisily on the cobbled road.

"I'm alright. I just need to bring my coat next time. I didn't want to wrinkle the dress— William bought it for me; honestly, I'm surprised he had the good taste to pick something like this." Anna spoke, her teeth chattering slightly, watching his face with what little light the streetlamps gave her.

"William?" John's interest was piqued, if the set of his brow was anything to go by.

"My baby brother. Well, step-brother, but he's as good as. He's staying with me while he attends university," Anna clarified.

"Ah," Anna couldn't help but notice how his face relaxed at that, "So, what are your plans for our little town?"

Anna smiled, "Well, I want to— I've been such a workaholic lately," _More like for eight years. _"I realized that I have no idea who I am. I thought I had it all, nice boyfriend, great job, friends. But I didn't. It took me awhile to realize that. Gwen, my assistant, and William, arranged all of this. They even gave me an itinerary."

"Well, that's nice of them," John smiled at that, before taking a deep breath, "I can't help but notice that you're alone? Where's your... boyfriend?" John's voice was strained, as if it pained him to say the word.

"He and I... It didn't work out," Anna winced inwardly, remembering the tight grip of Christopher's fingers clasped around her wrist, "We broke up just before I came here. I didn't feel like we would work out in the end,"

"Well, it was certainly brave of you to speak out. That's what transitions are all about. Change. Getting rid of things that drag you down," John smiled over at her, encouraging her, as if he knew what it was like to be in her shoes, "Courage like yours is hard to come by. Hold onto it, Anna, you might need it one day."

"If you say so… Well, here we are," Anna spoke as they stood in front of the picket fence that surrounded the Bed & Breakfast, offering a picturesque view of what life was like in Inistioge.

"Yes, here we are." John's voice cut through the air, and with it, a sharp breeze rushed down from the hills, goose bumps prickling on Anna's neck. Neither of them moved, instead they stayed there, standing opposite each other, each of them not wanting to break the silence. For a moment, Anna wondered what it might be like to lean up, to feel his broad chest beneath her fingers— would his heart be beating as fast as hers was?— to touch her lips to his and—

"Well, I'd best be going; it's late, and Cyrus will eat me alive as it is. Bloody idiot, that dog." Offering a smile, Anna shrugged out of his jacket and pushed it towards him, her arms prickling at the sudden chill. John's face mirrored her own, his eyes crinkling at the corners and a smile gracing his face as he took his coat back, swinging it around his shoulders gracefully. The smile on his face and the fluidity of his movements made him look years younger than he had this morning, when she had literally saved his future from crashing to ground and shattering.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates. I had fun tonight." Anna thought she saw his eyes sparkle as he smoothed the lapels of the blazer gently.

"My pleasure, Miss Smith." Anna was pleasantly surprised as John grasped her hand in his, bringing it up near his face, only to brush his lips to the back before releasing it. A thrill of heat ran through her, and she was sure her face was tomato red as she giggled, not trusting her voice to work properly. John bade her a good night and waited until she had reached the door of the little house before he walked backwards, assuring she got inside safely. With a final wave, Anna blushed once more and shut the door, leaning against it and imagining how those lips might feel on her own. Shaking herself, she chastised her imagination and made the trip down the corridor to her room.

* * *

Morning came much too early, it seemed. Groaning, Anna rolled over, plumping her pillow with a huff and squeezing her eyes closed harder than necessary against the harsh rays of sunlight. Anna was not the cheeriest of the morning bunch; at her best, a few moments were needed to collect herself before the sun came glaring in. At the very least, Mother Nature could do that for her.

She did her part. She recycled.

Yawning, she rolled over, burrowing deeper beneath the covers before sighing loudly.

"Bloody hell, isn't that enough for you?!"

Frustrated, Anna huffed and pushed the sheets away, a frown etched onto her features. Her feet swung to the floor, and with a hiss, she endured the cold floor against the pads of her feet to journey across the room. Casting a dirty look upwards towards the sky, blue and cloud-free, she pulled the lace curtains shut. Realizing her efforts were futile, given that they were lace curtains of all things, Anna opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the brightness. She was on vacation and her schedule was cramped, she reminded herself. Marching over to the vanity, she flopped unceremoniously onto the chair and looked at herself.

If ever anyone had the right to accuse her of looking like shit, it was now. Her mascara was smeared, her hair was a mess. Apparently, she hadn't bothered to do her usual routine. She cast a glance to the floor, disheartened when she saw that her dress lay crumpled, having fallen off the hanger sometime in the night. Trudging over, Anna picked up the poor thing and set on the edge of the chair by the vanity, opting to check her phone instead. Glancing at her email, she noticed that her inbox was cluttered with messages.

For Christ's sake, it was only— Anna scrolled up to check the time— well, there went breakfast.

As if on cue, her stomach growled.

Setting her phone down, Anna wandered to the wardrobe that stood in the corner, the wooden oak standing out against the décor of the room, pulling out a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a cream-colored cardigan before slipping down the hall to the bathroom to shower.

A half an hour later, Anna was flicking through the emails on her phone, simultaneously casting her eyes down to the itinerary and the map clutched in her hand, standing in the lot of the Bed & Breakfast. Keeping her eyes glued to the list of places Gwen had put together, Anna fished around in her purse for the car keys. The ugly yellow vehicle was wet with the remnants of this morning's early rain and Anna stared at it forlornly. Twisting her face into a grimace, she stuffed her papers into her purse, cursing when the keys slid from her grasp and clattered to the ground. Grumbling in exasperation, she leaned down to pick them up, but she hadn't heard the footsteps. A mystery hand swiped up the car keys, offering them to her. Taking them, she muttered a 'thank you', and looked up to see John staring back at her. A dark blue v-neck sweater clung to his figure, and Anna was once again graced with a sight of black chest hair. Jeans sheathed his legs, completing his casual look. His dark eyes were gazing at her with intensity that shocked her and Anna flushed brightly.

"John! I didn't hear you coming!" She watched as John's eyes crinkled at the corners, his lips rising in a smile. Her stomach twisted and her heart knocked against her ribs.

"Well, I can't always be the one who needs saving, can I," he retorted, his smile widening further.

"No, I don't suppose it'd be fair. What are you doing here?" Anna was curious, standing with John as she tucked the keys in her pocket for now. John grimaced, leaning on his cane for support.

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood— I wanted to see how you were, actually. You were certainly…" John's cheeks were now a flaming red, "Daring last night."

Anna groaned, dropping her head into her hand. "Oh, God, what did I say?"

John laughed, and Anna's heart nearly stopped. His laugh was deep, its silky smooth baritone causing Anna to join in, chuckling lightly. Dear lord, she could listen to that laugh all day. _No, stop it! You no longer have the excuse of being under the influence. _

"Nothing you need to be embarrassed about. I've been working in pubs since I was fresh out of uni; you'd be surprised at the stuff you hear when you're bartending."

"I'm sorry. I usually don't drink and—" Anna faltered, letting her excuses die in her throat.

"Don't worry about it. You're fine." John reassured, flashing her a brilliant smile.

Anna couldn't help but smile back. Shifting under his gaze, uncertain of what she should say next, Anna looked away. Thankfully, John saved her any embarrassment, pointing to the little car she stood in front of.

"Rented that, did you? Bad luck, that. I haven't seen one of those since I was a boy. They weren't good back then, and I can't fathom them being any better now." Stopping, he glanced at her, adding, "Oh, dear, I think I've just dated myself, haven't I?"

Anna shrugged, grinning at him.

"No, not at all."

Turning the corners of her mouth upwards, Anna comforted him with a smile.

"Where are you off to?" John asked, his right hand resting on the back of his neck, scratching at some invisible itch.

"Breakfast. I woke up late. I'm not exactly a morning person." Anna admitted, delighted when John's lips twitched slightly.

"Any idea where you want to go?"

"None whatsoever. There's a place in the next town over, apparently. They have good food, or so I'm told."

"Ah, I know the place. Rose's. It's good for a bite to eat, I suppose."

Anna nodded in conformation, pulling the map out of her purse and reading it.

John moved towards her, palm up, as if to take the map, "May I?"

"Of course," Anna said, "By all means, please!" Stuffing the map into his hand, she was startle when he leaned in close, setting the map on the hood of the car, his palms supporting his weight as he pointed out the best route. Captivated by his nearness, Anna didn't hear his words, too enchanted by the way his arms tensed as he pointed out various places, his forefinger trailing along the map. The woodsy scent from last night was heavy in the air and Anna had to step back a bit to escape the heady rush of giddiness.

'_What in the bloody hell are you thinking? You just broke up with Christopher! To be fair, he probably has his tongue down some Italian girl's throat already. You CANNOT be thinking about this right now. You are here to relax… Then again, William could be right… Ugh, stop it, Anna.' _

Her train of thought came to a sudden halt as John's voice invaded the stream of reasoning.

"Anna? Do you want me to write the directions down for you?"

"Oh, no. I'll be fine, thank you," Anna grinned, "Thank you for helping me out." She inwardly grimaced at the fact that she still had no idea what to do, having been too focused on John to pay any attention to his through directions.

With a nod, John spoke: "Anytime, Anna." Turning to leave, John began to walk away, his cane tapping rhythmically against the asphalt of the lot. Before her courage failed her, Anna called after him, "John?"

John looked over his shoulder, "Yes?"

"Would you… would you like to come along? It's just, I don't know the area very well, obviously, and I'd like some friendly company. Consider it payment for the free beer."

"Well, who could pass up free breakfast with a friend?" John rewarded her with a smile, turning back to the car.

Within minutes, they were on their way, clattering along the muddy road.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ In the next chapter, Anna will learn more about John, and conversely, John will listen to some of Anna's own story. John makes Anna an offer that will change everything for them. They just don't know it yet. If you're reading 'Parts of a Whole', the next piece will be up sometime tomorrow. So, let me know what you think!_


	6. An Offer

_**A/N:**__ This one took awhile to write. Dialogue is tricky for me, so if it's choppy or stilted, just let me know. Anyways, after a long wait, I can finally say ' enjoy'!_

_**Disclaimer: **__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise._

* * *

**Chapter Five: An Offer**

The drive was quiet for the most part, save for the lull of music that faded in and out of the speakers as the little car trundled on through the countryside. Anna watched the hills drift by as the pair bumped and jostled along the narrow road to the neighboring village. John had kindly offered to drive, as he knew the area and Anna did not, and Anna readily took the offer, eager to see more of the Irish landscape. Now a half an hour later, Anna had grown restless, having lost count of the hills someway back and failed at her attempt to hum along with the song on the radio, even though she didn't know it at all. Casting a glance over in his direction, Anna regarded John as he drove, his eyes glued to the road, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Examining him closely, Anna watched as John sighed, bobbing his head in time with the radio, and she couldn't help but notice that same lock of hair that fell across his eye just so had done so again. Shifting in her seat, she cleared her throat, clasping her hands in her lap tightly. Catching his eye, she grinned, willing herself not to blush at the prospect of having been caught staring. Looking away, Anna waited for the heat to fade from her face as she watched the grey skies whir by.

What she didn't notice was John's own eyes watching her as she looked out of the window, taking in the way her ponytail bobbed as the car clattered along, a few stray locks of hair catching the rays of light that the grey skies offered up so rarely, the way her blue eyes widened with fascination at the sights she marveled at. Even in jeans and a casual shirt, Anna somehow managed to look just as breathtaking as she had been last night. John could hardly believe that a woman as kind and beautiful as she was so willing to befriend him. A few quiet minutes passed and the little town was finally visible.

"We're nearly there," John's voice came louder than intended, his brogue breaking through in the silence of the cab. Anna started a bit, and John nearly laughed.

"Erm… Thank you for this, taking me here. I know it must be a hassle—"

The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel like a burden.

"I've nothing better to do, honestly. The pub doesn't open until noon for lunch, and even then, I'm not due back until the evening. Tom can manage for a while. He's a good lad."

John watched as Anna's brow furrowed.

"If you're sure, then. I know it was unexpected," Anna sighed.

John shook his head, chuckling.

"Sometimes unexpected is good; it can lead to the best things in life, you know. That's how I got the pub. After my divorce, I moved up here and opened up my place— it was what I always wanted to do, and for once, I could do it without someone telling me I couldn't. It was nice— I'm sorry, you probably don't want to hear about that." John's cheeks flushed and he watched the road intently, avoiding Anna's gaze.

"On the contrary, I think it's good that you did that. That you've moved on with your life. It took my mum years to do that, move on, I mean…" John chanced a glance at Anna, watching her pick at the cracking leather of the seat as she quieted, her eyes cast to the floor. Clearing her throat, Anna looked up, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, it looks like we're here."

* * *

By the time the pair had been seated, the sun had decided to peek out from behind the clouds, belying the fact that it had rained only a few hours before. The little restaurant was nearly empty; only a few patrons were scattered about, speaking in hushed tones over their heaping plates of food. The pictures were illuminated by the sunlight, displaying quaint scenes of nearby farms, of people talking and laughing. Anna and John sat in a corner booth, secluded and away from the main part of the dining area.

John lifted his menu, and after only a second of looking, set it down again, apparently already set on what he wanted. Anna, however, took her time, reading a few items off here and there, casting her eyes across the table, encouraged by John's kind smile. Anna placed her menu to the side, folding her hands neatly across the tabletop, and leaned forward.

"What's good here?" Anna asked, her voice almost a whisper.

With a wide smile, John chuckled and leaned in towards her, offering only two words.

"Trust me."

"Alright… I must warn you though, I'm not a very adventurous eater, Mr. Bates." Smiling lightly, Anna broke eye contact with John as the server made his way to their table.

John ordered fairly quickly, for both he and Anna, and after assuring Anna once more that she would like it, the two again fell into silence.

In an attempt to break the awkward tension that surrounded them, John spoke first.

"So, you're a career woman, then? What exactly is it that you do that you find so utterly droll?" Eyes twinkling, he stared with amusement at Anna's shocked face. The shock however, was soon replaced with indignation.

"It's not droll— I like my job very much. I'm the head of the marketing division at _Enchantè._ You might have heard of it? It's Britain's most successful fashion magazine. We get all of the exclusive looks at the upcoming fashion lines, and most importantly, we scout out new tatlent, new blood, on the runways. People don't want the same thing a hundred times. They want fresh things, new clothes. And for God's sake, they want practical things they can wear— I'm sorry. I get carried away sometimes." Anna had flushed pink, her ears burning, and she dipped her head. John might've laughed if he hadn't found it so endearing. The ice in his glass clinked as he sipped his water.

Pitying her a little, he tried to soothe her embarrassment.

"Oh, no, it's perfectly acceptable. I used to get so worked up about my work in the military— it really was a good time— so I do understand your love for your job, I really do…"

John watched the look of relief wash over Anna's features as she looked up at him, the blush fading quickly. Her gaze drifted to the nearby window, and she watched the people pass by with clouded eyes. Reaching out absentmindedly, Anna touched her glass, her fingers tracing patterns in the condensation that pooled on the clear surface, and she added, "Only, I'd like to have done something else, really. I went into the magazine thinking I was headed for a scouting position, but things happened and I was on my way to the top. I envy people like you. You're your own boss, you don't have anyone breathing down your neck, you don't need to have an assistant to schedule everything and coordinate it with corporate. You have your own thing… I wish I did. It might feel like was doing something worthwhile."

John sat forward, his lips twitching.

"Well, why don't you? Do something on your own, I mean. You seem quite capable."

Anna gave a nervous laugh. "Well, for one, I'd have no idea where to start!"

"It's not easy, but it's worthwhile. Think on it; it might do you some good. So, tell me more about this month-long vacation. Where do you plan to go, exactly?" John asked.

Rustling around in her purse, Anna pulled out a folded paper, sliding it across to John, careful to move her fingers away before he could move to grasp the list. John took it, smiling at Anna before he began to read.

"Well, I can tell you that half of these places aren't nearly as fun to visit by yourself, and the other half— well, I'm not sure you could make it in that old clunker." Gesturing to the car that sat out in the parking lot, John looked at Anna, meeting her blue eyes with his hazel irises.

He watched as Anna opened her mouth to protest before she thought better of it and smiled.

"You're right. I think I should probably just stick to the area, then."

John was taken aback at her implication. She hardly deserved to miss her vacation because she was stuck with an old heap of junk that should've been in the demolition yard twenty years ago.

"I can tell you now that as nice as Inistioge is, it really doesn't have much in the way of tourism. I'll make you a deal… How would you like to borrow my car during the longer trips?" John surprised himself at his offer, even as he spoke, but there was something so innocent, so lovely about her countenance that he couldn't bring himself to mind. Clearing his throat, he glanced up at Anna before he continued down the list, "I see the Cliffs of Moher is on here; that's good. I've heard lovely things about them. As for some of these other places, I hope your friend doesn't offer her services to everyone. She'll not make any money giving suggestions like this."

Anna laughed at that, obviously amused at the idea of her friend giving tour suggestions for a living. "I couldn't take your car, that'd be ridiculous!"

"Very well, then. We'll think of something. Public transport is too shoddy around here and trains are terrible. D'you have a pen, Anna?" John extended his palm towards her, and for the second time that day, was struck by her beauty as she triumphantly passed him a pen, her left hand sweeping a strand of golden hair behind her ear.

"May I?" John gestured to the sheet, and Anna nodded.

Casting his eyes down, John struck out the first two destinations, before shifting a few more around, and adding three. Finally, a few minutes later, John handed Anna the edited list, watching as Anna read through it.

"I like it!" At those three words, John's heart swelled, pleased with himself. As Anna scrutinized the list further, John felt a knot twist in his stomach, suddenly nervous.

"Now, I'm not sure about the fourth one— I've never really had the chance to visit some of these myself, so I'm not positive that they're all good," John admitted.

"Oh, I think they're perfect—" Anna paused, staring at him, as if he were under a microscope before slowly grinning. John's heart leapt in his chest and suddenly, he wished he could make her smile like that.

"Erm… This might be forward of me, but… would you like to come with me? I need reliable transport, and you've never been— and, well… I'd like the company."

John was shocked, to say the least, and he found himself speechless for a moment. Anna fidgeted, her hands wringing and she laughed nervously, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry— It was silly of me to think— never mind. Of course you don't want to go with me… We don't even know—"

"I'd love to. Consider me your unofficial tour guide and chauffer. Free of charge."

Anna smiled brightly, and John couldn't help but smile back.

_What in the hell was he doing?_

* * *

_**A/N:**__ My gosh, it's about time this thing was finished! Took me long enough! Please, do leave a review! _


	7. Opportunities and Mistakes

_**A/N: **__Finally! This chapter took a while to write— I hope you like it. There are some ups and downs— after all, not everything can go smoothly. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer: **__ Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise._

* * *

"… so, then he says, 'No, I've got it, don't worry,' and then— here's the best part— it slips out of his hands and it shatters. I swear he looked like he pissed himself! I've never seen my mum so angry. To this day, I swear she would've killed him if he hadn't run off back home…"

John finished his story, watching as Anna giggled freely, clearly entertained by his childhood friends' antics. They were walking along the street, her hands laden with bags of stuff, souvenirs and trinkets from the folk festival in nearby Thomastown. John had enjoyed himself more than he imagined he would have, but he suspected that had more to do with Anna's company than anything else. It had been almost a week since he had offered to be Anna's personal guide, and he couldn't be happier— in the days since, he and Anna had been nearly inseparable. It had become a sort of routine of theirs.

In the mornings, Anna would meet him outside of the pub, list in hand, and off they would go. At the festival, today had been all laughter and music and food and fun, watching as children ran about, talking in hushed voices over local food, and tapping along with the jigs as the two of them watched the dancers move in time with the beats, the rapid tune infectious as everyone began to clap along, the din drowning out the conversation around them. The drive back had been wonderful, full of jokes and comments about the quality of the music and dancing, and even more stories of their lives growing up.

More than once throughout the week, John had found himself staring at Anna, captivated by the way her head dipped back as she laughed, the way her lips curled into a shy smile as they touched on a topic particularly sensitive to her, or the way her fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear… Even now, her arm was slipped through his as they walked, her bags swinging violently, and he didn't seem to mind. Stares followed them through the center of the town, women whispering together in the streets, men eyeing Anna curiously as the pair walked along. With a start, John felt Anna's arm slip from his and she lurched ahead, her heels clicking rapidly on the cobbled street.

The main street was filled with people, and John could see Mrs. Hughes in the center of the knot. The Scottish woman's voice rang out high and clear as she struggled to silence the murmurs and shouts of the crowd.

"I'm terribly sorry, but it seems there's nothing to be done. It'll take two, maybe three days, to clear the flood. If you have all of your possessions, I have maps here to inns that will accommodate you until such time as the issue is resolved!" A flurry of activity ensued, and people grabbed at the slips of paper, soon leaving Mrs. Hughes alone in the street as the unimpressed tenants left, dragging their things behind them. With a frown, Anna approached the older woman who was cursing under her breath. John stood to the side, unsure of himself.

"Mrs. Hughes? What happened? Are you alright? And Mr. Carson?" As Anna spoke, John found himself smiling; always kind, Anna would of course ask after the housekeeper first.

John watched as the woman's shoulders dropped, exhaustion overtaking her.

"Oh hello, Anna. A main waterline burst in the kitchen— it seems you'll be staying in Knocktopher for a few days. Mr. Carson and I will be fine, but this rate, all of the inns in Thomastown will be full, what with the festival and the additional guests after this… You might want to get your things—"

With a firm nod, Anna moved past the weary woman, flashing a small smile over her shoulder at John. He returned it, watching her disappear into the cottage, moving to speak with Mrs. Hughes.

"What happened? Where's Charles?"

Elsie's jaw was set, her lips tightening into a firm line. "It seems the contractor was lax with the installation of the plumbing; the pipe to the kitchen sink burst— there's water everywhere. I just hope no one's things are ruined…"

"Where will you be staying?" John pulled his blazer tighter to him. The sun was fading, and with it, the last of the warmth.

"Don't you worry about me, John Bates. I'll be just fine. If anything, I'd be more worried about Anna getting a room at an inn. Did you take her to the festival?" Mrs. Hughes smiled kindly, her voice soft.

"Yes, I did, actually. I think she liked it, I certainly did," John smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, good. I'm glad you're here to show her around. That girl has some soul-searching to do, I can tell you that. And… perhaps that's not all she'll find here, hmm?" Mrs. Hughes raised an eyebrow, casting John a knowing look.

John grinned. Mrs. Hughes was perceptive, quick-minded, and with a sharp wit to match.

"Aye, that she does— here she is," John smiled as Anna approached, her bag rolling behind her, crackling on the pavement. As she neared, he saw that tears were running down her face. Carrying a sodden lump in the crook of her arm, her head was bent as she approached the pair.

John felt his heart sink; he hated to see her crying, and a part of him wondered what had made her so upset.

"Anna? What is it?" John's voice was thick with emotion, but his concern was met with a shake of the head, her blond hair shifting as she pushed towards her car. A glance at Mrs. Hughes revealed she knew as little as he did. In a moment, with a quick farewell, John was after her, his cane tapping rapidly on the ground. Even with his bad knee, his long strides overtook hers in a matter of seconds. His hand shot out, grasping her elbow gently, turning her towards him. He heard a hiccup and then her eyes met his. Tear-stained and red, her face was a display of grim devastation, and without thinking, John brushed a tear from her cheek. His hand stayed cupping her cheek, and John was dimly aware that this was the most contact they had had since that first night in the pub. Anna's cerulean gaze was brightened by the tears that still formed, her breath still shuddering from her sobs, and John found that he had never wanted to kiss someone as badly as he did right then. Instead, he let his hand drop abruptly, as if he had been shocked by her, and her eyes slid shut, as if she almost _missed _the contact.

"I don't think you should drive— not in this state, at least. Here, let me…" John spoke, moving to take her bag and the sodden lump from her grasp. He could see it now, what she was carrying. The book looked old; the gold-leaf title had faded, the image on the front was nearly gone, and the leather binding was soggy with the water. Possessively, Anna clung harder to the book, refusing to let John handle it, Instead, John pulled the luggage along behind him, not daring to question it.

Packing her things into the boot of her car, he helped her in. Clambering in on the driver's side, John shut the door as quietly as possible, not wishing to disturb the quiet meditation Anna seemed to be in.

"It's too late to go over to Knocktopher, unfortunately. It seems you'll be staying with me tonight if that's alright. I mean I could always put you up above the pub, but it's not quite livable yet—" nervously, he glanced at Anna.

"Fine," Her voice was cold, hard, and so unlike the Anna he had come to know.

"The spare room should be comfortable enough, I think," He added, attempting to relieve the tension. His quick chuckle was met with silence.

John sighed as Anna sat, unmoving. Without speaking again, John put the car into drive and began the short journey home.

* * *

Anna sat in front of the fireplace, watching, almost entranced as the flames crackled. Having already gotten the tour of the house, Anna had settled into her nightwear already. Her luggage was already safely stowed away in the upstairs spare room, so Anna had been ushered into the living room by John, given a blanket, and told to sit there and wait for a few minutes. The heat of the fire warmed her face, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her. A large dog was settled on the hearthrug nearby, loud snores erupting as he slumbered. John was fiddling in the kitchen, cupboards opening and shutting, and Anna took a moment to observe the small living space. An old desk sat in the far corner, the white paint chipping off even as it sagged under the weight of the twenty books that it supported. A wide bookshelf took up most of the space in the room, the expanse of the wall nearly covered by it. Every book imaginable was stuffed into it, and Anna was almost tempted to browse the selection, but thought better of it when she thought of the mess that might happen if she dared touch even one. Cozy chairs sat opposite her, their fat, fluffy cushions looking fairly inviting as Anna's eyes drooped.

Today, despite the tragedy that the evening had brought, had been very enjoyable indeed— John had taken her up to Thomastown, promising a day she wouldn't soon forget. Bands of pipers and drummers and Celtic singers had kept the spirits of the festival up, even as the chill of November chilled the visitors to the bone. The food had been delicious, the drink filling, and the many colorful stalls that were stuffed together along the main road were bursts of color and light and sound as local merchants advertised their wares to everyone that dared to go within ten feet of them.

Anna let her smile fade as footsteps approached, and she watched as John set a mug down on the low table in front of her.

"Drink up, it'll help." John offered a weak smile, sitting on one of the chairs, lifting his own mug to his lips.

Anna complied, her fingers wrapping around the warmth of the mug almost instinctively as she drew the mug close to her.

"John?" Anna's voice was small as she spoke, "Thank you."

John offered a knowing smile before setting his tea down with a thump. Leaning forward, he raked a hand through his dark hair and Anna tried not to notice. The green sweater he wore clung to his shoulders as he stretched slightly, the day clearly catching up to him. Nodding towards the copy of _Jane Eyre _where it lay open in front of the fire, the pages crinkling as it dried, John spoke.

"You know, when I was younger, I had a bear that I would drag around constantly. I was never more devastated than when I lost it…" Anna's eyes found his, and she was shocked at the compassion she found in his brown-eyed watchfulness.

Anna sipped from her mug, relishing the bitter taste of the tea, before taking a shuddering breath and smiling shakily.

"When I was little… eight, actually, my Dad got that for me for Christmas. It was a lovely gift, I really did love it. That was the last gift I got from him—" Anna watched as John listened intensely, his eyes urging her continue, "He died shortly afterwards. Winter was always the worst, out in the country. Black ice was always everywhere. A week after that Christmas morning, he was on his way home from the office and… Well— It was my fault, you see… I had begged him to leave work early so he could get home in time for dinner. I was making his favorite— Yorkshire pudding. Mum was helping, of course— I never could cook… I burned, the bloody thing. I was so proud of it, too… Then the officers came— And that was that. I'm sorry. After such a lovely day with you, here I am ruining it." Sniffling, Anna cast her eyes down, watching as the light cast shadows over the open pages of her favorite book.

"Sometimes… Life is cruel and mean and black, but do you know what, Anna?"

"What?"

"I think your Dad would be very proud of you…" He paused, and then, after a beat, added, "Even if you can't make Yorkshire pudding."

A hint of a smile lightened her face, and with a swipe of her hand, she brushed away the tears that had fallen.

Anna's heart sunk as John got up suddenly, and for a moment, it was as if he was about to leave the room. Perhaps what she had said upset him too much, perhaps she had said the wrong thing.

Instead of turning to leave as she had though he might, he stood in front of the vast bookshelf, as if he were contemplating something. Finally, he grasped a book by the spine, and with a practiced ease, pulled it from its spot on the bookshelf. Turning to her with a grin, his steps were soft as he rounded the table, dropping gently next to her, the cushion barely shifting beneath his weight.

"I know it won't replace it, but I figure you should have it anyways," John smiled as Anna looked at him, eyes wide. His arm extended, and he gave the book a subtle shake, motioning for her to take it. The copy was heavy in her hands, and the illustrations on this one were even prettier than those of her copy.

"I— John—" Anna's eyes filled with tears, and she felt like a fool for crying again. It was so perfect and wonderful.

"Shh… Take it, it's yours." John smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as Anna smiled, her eyes alight.

Anna was very aware of him in that moment, of how close he was. Her knee brushed his, and the light of the flames cast a beautiful shadow over his face, and Anna was hypnotized by the way the light brought out the different colors of his irises, the blues and greys and greens all flecked in pools of brown. That lock of hair had fallen over his brow once more, and Anna reached up as if to brush it back, but instead, John grasped her hand in his, and she was surprised at how warm his grip was, at how safe she felt here with him. She thought back to the first night, at the pub, where she had contemplating kissing him. Maybe it would be better to kiss him now, here in the warmth of the living room, with the fire lighting the space, the heavy silence looming around them. Her lips twitched she watched him, her breaths shallow as she leaned in slightly—

The moment was broken as John pulled away, standing with a fluidity belying the state of his leg, and Anna looked down at where her hand lay limp on her lap where he had dropped it.

"The loo is just around the corner. Erm… Blankets are in the spare room… I should— I'll leave you to it, then… Err, drink up."

In a moment, John was gone, the dog lumbering along behind him, leaving a crestfallen Anna alone.

* * *

After some time, John sat on his bed, a sigh escaping him as he sagged under the weight of his mistake.

"You're a fool, John Bates. You always have been— you should have kissed her. Bastard. Now you've done it."

Hanging his head in his hands, John muttered, "Idiot."

A thought struck him, and with a renewed fervor, he sprung up, the bedsprings creaking as he did so. Shuffling down the hall and limping down the stairs, he paused at the landing, opening his mouth to speak, but instead, shut it before he could say what he wanted to. Anna was fast asleep on the sofa, her face swollen from crying and John felt a pang of disappointment shoot through him.

Perhaps in the morning he would make it right.

* * *

_**A/N: **__As always, leave a review detailing your thoughts!_


	8. When Morning Comes

_**A/N: **This chapter was fantastic fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it as well. John and Anna talk about recent developments. Later, John takes Anna to a hidden paradise. _

_**Disclaimer: ** __Just so you know, I'm a broke college student who doesn't own Downton Abbey. All characters you recognize are the property of Julian Fellowes and his team of masterminds. After all, if I owned Downton Abbey, I'd be raking in the cash selling 'Baby Bates' merchandise. _

* * *

When Anna woke, it was to the sight of a pair of large, unblinking dark eyes staring at her. Groggily, she sat up, blinking the sleep away, and groaned at the stiffness in her neck. A few moments of adjustment allowed her to recall last night's events. Her eyes wandered to the table, where a copy of _Jane Eyre_ rested innocently on the dark wood, and then to the floor, where her own copy lay open, its pages dry but wrinkled with water damage. Sighing, the scrape of the cover on the hardwood filled the silence of the room as Anna slid the book towards her, the book heavy in her hand as she lifted it from the floor. Tracing her fingers across the bumpy paper, she sighed forlornly as she snapped it shut, shaking her head. Placing it next to the copy John had given her, Anna chanced a glance at her silent, four-legged companion, who was patiently waiting, head cocked to one side. Sliding her hand along the great dog's back, she recalled what it had been like to have a dog when she was growing up.

"I suppose you want out, hm?" In answer, Cyrus gave a deep-throated whine, and Anna stood, drawing the blanket around her tighter as a chill filled the air. The last embers of the fire were barely glowing in the fireplace, and Anna hurriedly shuffled to the kitchen, heading for the back door. She recalled a fence surrounding the yard, and she hoped John wouldn't mind if she let the dog out for a moment or two. The dog padded behind her, his nails clacking loudly on the hardwood floor as he eagerly pushed ahead of her, anticipating her path. Opening the door, Anna smiled at the dog, amused as he bounded out the door with a gruff bark. With a shiver, she shut the door with a light click, moving to the sink to watch from the little window there. Her forearms rested on the counter as she leaned forward, contemplating the scenery before her. Rolling green hills were just outside John's backyard and went on as far as the eye could see, a light frost dulling the green just slightly. For a moment, Anna wondered what life would be like, in a place like this, with hardly any cares in the world. She chuckled, the fantasy fleeting as reality set in.

Too many responsibilities weighed her down, too many people were dependent on her. With a sudden twinge of emptiness in her heart, she thought of all of the people in her life— did they really _need _her? Of course, there was William, but he was an adult; soon he would want a place of his own, a life of his own, a family, even, and there was her mother, but Ilene Smith-Mason had long since stopped needing Anna around, more than content to tend to her husband and house up in Yorkshire, with her multi-colored garden and her many friends. Of course, there was Gwen, but really, it was none of Anna's business what she did. Anna tried to think of more, but aside from her job, she didn't have much of a life. At twenty-nine years old, she still had no one to come home to, no one to laugh with, no one to _really_ love. Not long ago, when Anna was focused completely on her career, pouring her soul into _Enchantè_, she might've thought that that wasn't so bad. There had been Christopher, but Anna had long since realized that she had never really loved him, not in the way he had wanted. Feeling smothered by his affections and overly protective tendencies, Anna had tried to push back, to gain her own space, and that had not ended well. Subconsciously, Anna tugged at the long sleeve of her periwinkle nightshirt, trying to cover the long gone bruises left from their nasty encounter in the diner. Shaking her head clear, Anna turned to the kettle on the stove, wondering how John liked his tea. Perhaps she could make some before he woke.

In the time she had been up, she had yet to hear him shuffling around above. The rush of water from the tap was monotonous as she thought of the man who had been kind enough to let her stay with him, despite her cold demeanor last night. Suddenly, memories of his scent, woodsy and heavily intoxicating, surrounded her as she remembered the warmth of his grasp, his fingers circling her palm, the rapid tempo of her heart thudding in her chest as she leaned in, her eyes searching his as they moved closer, lips nearly touching—

"You don't have to do that, Anna."

A baritone voice made her jump, and she nearly dropped the kettle. Shutting off the tap, Anna avoided his gaze as she lifted the kettle and set it on the stove, turning the dial.

Could she stand to look at him, knowing how it had felt to almost kiss him? Knowing the ache of sadness that followed his gentle rebuff? She was made of stronger stuff. A deep breath, and then, she turned, facing him. He was leaning in the archway, the sleeves of his maroon pajama top rolled up, exposing his strong forearms, hair covering them, even as he crossed them. His hair was mussed, and the bags beneath his eyes were puffy and dark, as if he hadn't gotten very much sleep.

"I don't mind, really. It's the least I can do," Anna smiled weakly, the memory of last night flashing in her mind's eye. The silence around them was tense, awkward, broken minutes later only by the whistle of the kettle.

Anna flicked the unit off and lifted the chrome pot off of the still hot unit, instead depositing it on the next one over. Before Anna could even question John as to the whereabouts of the mugs, John crossed the kitchen, his deliciously bare feet sliding almost noiselessly across the linoleum. Opening the cabinet above her, John leaned in to get the mugs, stretching slightly, and Anna felt her cheeks redden as she was given a very generous view of the hair that covered his stomach. A moment later, John was next to her, his presence very much in the forefront of Anna's thoughts, his quick procedure of brewing the tea taking all of thirty seconds. Thirty seconds for Anna to come up with a comfortable topic of discussion, one that wouldn't infringe upon the taboo nature of their late night incident. Twenty seconds. Books? What kind did he enjoy most? Ten. What would they do today? _Did _he want to continue this tour? Time was up.

Anna decided that letting the dog in was a good escape, and so she spoke.

"I think I'll just—"

"Anna, I think we should talk—"

John and Anna had spoken at the same time, each cutting the other off. Their respective sentences faded, and it was John who spoke first.

"I think we need to talk. About last night." Anna could tell he was uncomfortable, his hands wringing nervously, his posture tense, defensive even. Deciding she would do her best to alleviate his distress, despite her desire to talk about it, she piped up.

"No, please. We don't. It was my mistake, I shouldn't have pushed. I should have known you didn't want that—" She began to turn away, making for the back door, where Cyrus whined loudly. She was surprised as she felt his gentle grip encircle her wrist, and she was struck by the contrast between John's gentle touch and the memory Christopher's imprisoning grip.

"But that's just it, Anna… I did want to kiss you. I came downstairs after a while to apologize, but you were asleep already—" With a helpless gesture, John trailed off, taking a breath. Anna's breathe caught in her throat. He had wanted to kiss her. Did he still? Her heart pounded, knocking against her ribcage loudly, this recent news sending a thrill down her spine. "The thing is— I'm not an easy man to… be with. I'm difficult and moody and intense and I don't want you to run." The vulnerability in his eyes struck a chord deep in Anna's heart, and she felt a lump swell in her throat as tears threatened to make themselves known.

"I don't run, John. I never have and I don't plan to start now," Anna insisted, moving closer to him. "And… do you still want to kiss me?" He was close. A smile broke his pensive composure and he leaned forward slightly, pausing to search her face for any protest, but Anna only smiled.

They were so close; she could hear his labored breaths and she thought that perhaps this could be it.

A desperate whine broke the moment, and Anna shot a murderous look towards the back door, where Cyrus scratched. John chuckled, the sound deep and comforting.

"I told you he was a bloody idiot."

* * *

Breakfast had been quiet, but companionable, and they easily slipped into their routine again, despite their earlier almost kiss. This time, though, Anna was happy about it. It was best not to rush things— she knew he felt the same pull towards her as she did him, and for now, that was enough.

Anna felt lighter than she had since the festival yesterday as she strode up the pathway, her bag rolling behind her. The inn at Knocktopher seemed inviting enough, shuttered windows lining the front. The whole town reminded her of a scene from a children's novel. Serene and quiet, the only noises to be heard was that of the wind chime ringing in the slight breeze. Coming to the door, Anna turned to where John sat in the car, and caught a fleeting smile before pushing inside. The tour of her small room was rushed, and Anna was sure that the innkeepers were glad to be rid of her, their harried expressions more than enough to usher Anna out of the door and back into the refuge of the waiting warmth of the car.

"How was it?" John inquired, his voice a balm after the shouting and snarling of the middle-aged couple.

"I'll be glad when Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson sort everything out. Speaking of which, do you still want to be my personal guide?"

"It's a good excuse to actually see parts of Ireland I haven't been to yet— besides, the company is worth it. In fact, there's some place I'd like to take you today, if that's alright?"

"Do you need to ask?"

When Anna stepped out of the car a few minutes later, the sight took her breath away. The lot was nearly empty, but for two other cars. Anna gasped and she heard John chuckle as he shut the car door.

"I take it you like it, then?"

"John, this is... this is gorgeous!"

Despite the grey skies of late fall, Anna couldn't wait to enter this paradise.

Pulling John along eagerly, she stepped past the row of hedges that separated this majestic place from the rest of the world. Looking around, she saw naught but beautiful, robust greenery. Tall trees stretched up further than she could crane her neck, their canopies meeting with the slightest of touches. A light breeze rushed through and the leaves above rustled in the chilly air. Rocky hills were on either side of a worn pathway, and Anna cast John an excited grin as she stepped onto the path.

As they walked together, her arm looped through his, he pointed out little plants here and there describing the properties of each, every bit the unofficial tour guide. The great rocky hills parted some way down the dirt path, and each break in the hills offered a new way to go, a new place, with all of their hidden wonders lying in wait for Anna to discover them. Excitement built as the path grew steeper, the brush blotting it out here and there. Luckily, John seemed to have no problems navigating the steep terrain, even with his leg.

"Where are we exactly?"

"It's called Kilfane Glen. It's known as one of the prettiest places in Ireland— certainly one of the prettiest places locally…"

They had stopped at the top of a pathway, where it broke into two ways, and Anna shot him a smile.

"Thank you. It really is beautiful." John looked at her, a smile of his curling the corners of his mouth as he agreed, never once taking his eyes from her face.

"It certainly is."

With a firm resolve, Anna weaved her fingers with his, taking in the sight before her. In front of her stood a wonderful man, kind enough to help her in journey, kind enough to give her shelter, and she wondered, not for the first time, and most certainly not for the last, what it would be like to be with him, to feel that safety. Now was the time to let things go— perhaps she should start here. Anna's nervous smile softened, the warmth of his eyes reassuring her in a way that set her heart hammering away. There was no hesitation in his soft gaze, no doubts. Here, in the silence of this beautiful place, there were no distractions— only the two of them. Determination spurring her on, Anna steadied herself on his solid build, her palms meeting his broad chest. Beneath her fingers, she could feel his heartbeat accelerate. She inhaled sharply as his free hand came up to cup her cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking patterns on her skin; his touch was so light, it was almost as if he thought she might break. No words were needed. Not here, not now. Here it was only them. Anna felt a thrill course through her as he dipped his head down, his face nearing hers. Their lips met, and Anna felt a rush of heat coil through her body. His lips moulded to hers, and her hands, of their volition, moved to his neck, clutching him closer. His palms pressed to the small of her back, and she pressed closer to him, eager for the contact. The world spun around them and it was as if Anna was feather-light.

After a moment, they broke apart, and Anna let out a small breath. John still held her close, his hands locked behind her. A second of silence passed before Anna met his gaze with a grin. John smiled at her, and with a final sweep of his thumb across her lips, turned to where the path forked in two.

"Which way?"

"I trust you," Anna smiled, her hand finding his easily, his warm grasp comforting her, "Completely."

A chuckle followed and John pointed to the left, his cane swinging ahead as he gestured to the path.

"Shall we?"

* * *

**_A/N: _**_I hope you enjoyed it! I loved writing this chapter and I'm really pleased with how it turned out, but leave your own thoughts in that little box right there. Reviews are food for the fanfiction writer's soul!_


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